Normal.
Safe.
Just what I need.
Her room is the last one on the left, and her curtains are open to catch the afternoon light. She’s sitting by the window, knitting something pink and small. Her silver hair is pinned up, and she looks content, peaceful, and the opposite of how I feel.
When she sees me, her eyes brighten. “There’s my girl.”
I force a smile and cross the room. “Brought you muffins.”
“Blueberry?”
“Always.”
She sets down her yarn and reaches for the bag. “You spoil me, Sienna.”
“Someone has to.”
She eyes me a little too long and then asks the dreadful question. “You look tired, Sienna. What’s wrong?”
I laugh softly. “Do I have to be falling apart to visit you, Grandma?”
“No, but you look like you’ve been battling something fierce.”
I slump into the chair beside her. “You’re not wrong.”
She studies me for a long moment before speaking again. “Is it your father?”
I frown. “What makes you think that?”
“It’s a man. There’s this look on your face; you’re distraught. As though your life is either over or highly complicated.”
“Nothing I can’t handle, Grandma.”
“Hmm.” She unwraps a muffin, breaks off a piece, and pops it into her mouth. “You sound like your mother when she used to try to convince me she was fine.”
“I’m not my mom.”
“No,” she agrees. “You’re much worse at lying.”
I huff a quiet laugh, more out of guilt than amusement. “I’m fine. Really.”
“You keep saying that.” She sets aside her muffin. Her eyes are softer now, less probing, and more knowing. “Your shoulders tell a different story. You used to walk into a room like you owned it. Now, you walk in like you’re trying not to be seen.”
I stare at the yarn in her lap, watching her fingers smooth a loose strand. “It’s just been a lot lately. Work. Life. Everything between.”
Her soft hand finds mine. “You’ve always been stubborn, Sienna. Just promise me you won’t carry more than you can bear.”
I nod, though I know I already am.
She studies me a moment longer, then gives my hand a small squeeze. “Whoever he is, I hope he’s worth the ache written all over your face.”
I blink, trying not to react. “You think too much.”
“And you feel too much.” She smiles faintly. “That’s always been your problem.”
I look away, swallowing hard. “Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep.”
